


Inability to Trust

by LumaBoop



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Dreams, Fenris POV, First Person, Gen, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumaBoop/pseuds/LumaBoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris starts to have night terrors in his struggle to trust mages.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Suddenly, from behind the harmless cats, two beasts, silver and gold, emerged from the darkness. They towered over them all, and the wolf must have been reminded of what those cats could turn into.</em></p><p> </p><p>  </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Monsters. Terrors.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frightened of Shadows

I remembered something last night.  How I could recall it baffles me.

_“Do you have any ounce of trust in you?”_

Perhaps the abomination’s words struck a nerve in me that echoed into the Fade.

 

I remember small children in rags, some even naked, romping and tumbling about… a lot of them were elves, I believe.

 

“I like your hair; it’s shiny like silver pieces.”

 

A girl’s? A boy’s voice? A compliment. I remember sensing a sort of pride in the air. Then the Fade grew dark.  The giggling and laughter became touched with a maliciousness that I knew all too well, and yet, these were still children’s voices. Children’s voices taunting a small huddling sack of a creature with a tuff of white hair. Some even kicked at it as it cowered.

 

“What a freak!”

 

The same voice that gave the compliment giggled along with the others. The Fade was suffocating and thick with a sense of betrayal.

 

“Stop!”

 

A small, yet taller, figure rushed between the huddle and the antagonizers. It had long, light red hair and cast a faint blue glow that caused the devilish children to scatter and flee…

 

Then, I awoke. I touched my cheek and realized I had been crying.

———————

The blood mage was prone to ramble, but a miraculous rarity happened that evening; she made sense.

 

“I tend to be forgetful, too, Fenris.  And every time I try to recall things, only bad memories surface.  It’s not fair how our minds feud with us.”

 

I had half a mind to agree with her verbally.  It’s been three years, and I can only recall sour, tainted memories, and of those memories, I recall the worst parts of them. The abomination interjected:

 

“Bad memories surface only because there are some people who would rather punish themselves than move on.”

 

His biting words echoed in the Fade.  While the memory is fleeting, I remembered gossiping, whispering figures, a dusty hallway, and… Maker, the pain, which each step, I felt pins and needles shoot up my legs. Yet, I kept walking, unable to block out the demeaning words:

 

_“Master’s little pet.”_  
  
 _”Thinks he’s some kind of special.”_

_“The manor’s dog.”_

 

And the smiles; so false and forced. Endless. That hallway had been so long that night.

———————————

Tired. Exhausted, yet I’d done nothing to warrant it.  Sebastian believed it was due to poor sleep, claiming my eyes to be bloodshot.

 

“The Fade not being kind to you lately?”

 

He chuckled, kindheartedly and teasing, and I… I walked away, livid and irritated.  The farther I walked, the more foolish I felt, and the faster I paced away. I couldn’t hear them, but my mind conjured up probable snippets they were surely sharing. Being alone only made my conjurings more believable until my imagination was my reality.  Even if Hawke had come in and told me otherwise, I would not have believed they had not talked ill of me for leaving.

 

That night, I had the first dream— the first of many bizarre dreams within the Fade.

 

A wolf was chasing a common cat. Perhaps because it was a feline, or maybe for a meal? The wolf swiped it with its paw, causing the creature to tumble.  The wolf pounced, ready to deal a final blow, but was side swiped by a paw ten times bigger than a common cat’s. A beast had immerged from the cat, with a grand mane of fur about its neck, rippling muscles, and sharpened claws.  It glared at the wolf with familiar hazel brown eyes, and bore its fangs, mouth full of sharp teeth.

 

The wolf whimpered but stood its ground, snarling at the beast.  Its tail was tucked between its legs, hair on end, but nothing would give the wolf peace that this monster couldn’t or wouldn’t kill it.

 

There the feline beast towered, all power and calm, while the wolf snarled and yapped, as if trying to drown out the sound of its own fear.

 

I was awakened by the sound of my own snarling.

——————————-

Three years; I’d like to give myself praise that my patience was… improving. I would  _like_  to.

 

“You used me!”

 

“I did no such thing!”

 

“I felt it! You sanctioned the lyrium in me to fuel your magic!”

 

“You’re mad! I’d never think of doing such a thing!”

 

“Between you and that so-called spirit, who knows what you’re capable of doing without _thinking_?!”

 

“Enough, both of you!”

 

A beast’s roar.  I was stunned quiet, even as Isabela pulled me back and Hawke did the same for Anders.  I regained my composer, and snatched my arm away.  My fists were clenching so hard, the metal bit through the gauntlet gloves.

 

“Pipe down, Fenris!” snapped Isabela, to whom I said nothing.  Heat boiled in my stomach and chest, and pressure built in my head.

 

I knew what I felt; it was unmistakable. That mage had used me as a conductor for his magic.  I knew he wasn’t to be trusted, especially with a Fade spirit inside him; a Fade spirit of the same clothe who found the song of lyrium to be more precious than whatever ‘moral’ they instilled.

 

Morals meant nothing in the face of a creature’s baser desires.

 

“Keep that deranged elf away from me!”

 

 _Deranged_.

 

I smiled bitterly; words were words, right? Invisible, and fleeting. So the abomination could speak his mind without reprimand, while I… heh, well. I’m just… my words do not matter. My opinion is void against that of a mage.

 

The Fade was strange once again that night. There was a constant rattling sound…

 

The wolf was silently walking behind another maned beast. This beast was silver in color with cold, pale blue eyes. It had something in its mouth.  The wolf, as if realizing something was amiss, stopped moving, but was tugged by something to keep walking.  A chain was around its neck and the end of said chain was secured in the beast’s jaws.

 

The wolf struggled again, livid, but still, it was dragged. The resistance annoyed the beast, and it attacked the wolf. Blood, yelping, crying…

 

The wolf appeared again, walking _beside_ the silver beast, collared with a high pep to its gait despite the wound to its hind leg.  The collar was so tight…

 

I woke with my hand cradling my neck, and my throat riddled with nail marks.

———————————————-

“I’m sorry, Fenris.”

 

He always did this.

 

“You know your body better than anyone; if I accidentally sanctioned—”

 

“Cease with your lies. It was no accident.”

 

Why could I never believe him?

 

“You sodding prick, I am  _trying_  to apologize!”

 

“Your apologies are nothing but a trivial formality and, further more, a ruse so that you look the innocent. If you truly were sorry, you would have not spoken in public, but in private.  You _are not_ sorry.”

 

The abomination’s cheeks burned red, and I reveled in his anger, yet an unmistakable chill of fear ran up my spine at what this mage could –might- do to me for being defiant.

 

“You are the most insufferable—you know what, you’re right.  This was a formality because I still don’t believe I sucked any lyrium from your blasted body, but I figured that if I was the bigger man and apologized, you’d get over it. And Hawke put me up to it.

 

“And, what; I’m suppose to drop everything I’m doing to hand-deliver you a private apology just because you felt weird? Don’t flatter yourself, Fenris!”

 

“Anders, that’s enough,” Hawke frowned, but the abomination kept ranting. I found my head heavy, and hung it.

 

“No, Hawke. I am  _tired_  of coddling this bastard’s irrational fear of mages!”

 

“It is hardly an irrational fear, Anders,” Sebastian chimed.

 

“We’ve done nothing wrong to him! We’ve catered to his phobia, tending to him like a little child afraid of spiders. We’ve give him extra support in battle, staying away from him, and wasted precious resources on him to heal his wounds so that he can be assured no magic was used on him. Wounds that he would  _not_  have gotten if he’d allowed a bloody mage to protect him!

 

“It’s been years since a mage brought harm to him.  When will he learn that mages are not all demons?!”

 

“Not all mages are as  _exemplary_  and  _upstanding_  as you, Anders,” Sebastian snipped.

 

They argued—I backed away, not sure how to respond. Hawke gave me a withering look before breaking them up. Why did that man put up with me?

 

That night, the wolf was locked in a cage, heavy collar knotted in his fur. From the darkness, the wolf could smell something, so it rose and put its nose between the bars.

 

Soon, two kittens bounded over to the cage, mewling and wrestling.  They looked happy.  The wolf whimpered loudly in fear, tail touching its stomach as he went to the back of the cage. The kittens mewled at the wolf; the cat with a scar across its nose paws at the bars while the other, a tabby, jumped for the lock.

 

Intrigued, the wolf cautiously approached; why were the cats helping it, I could feel the wolf ponder.

 

The tabby cat cleverly picked the lock with its claws, and the door opened to the cage.  The wolf… was free. What was freedom? The wolf could hardly recall it by how bewildered it acted, but the cats seemed joyful that the door was open… even if they were cats.

 

The wolf stood at the threshold of the cage, tail no longer tucked, and took a tentative step forward.

 

Suddenly, from behind the harmless cats, two beasts, silver and gold, emerged from the darkness. They towered over them all, and the wolf must have been reminded of what those cats could turn into.

 

Monsters. Beasts.

 

The wolf cowered from the unknowing kittens, curling up in a corner of the cage with its tail wrapped tight around itself.  The tabby cat lost interest in an animal afraid of shadows and scampered away, and the gold beast melted into darkness with it.

 

The scarred cat stayed at the opening, mewing to the wolf, but with no success.  The kitten was not a kitten to the wolf, but ruthless, tyrannical giant. They _all_ were to the wolf, and to stay safe, the wolf did not trust the kitten. The scarred cat curled up at the threshold, purring kindly. Perhaps if it stayed long enough, the wolf would play.

 

The wolf was now a domestic dog.

 

I was tightly curled in bed when I awoke, every muscle aching as if each tendon was coiled in knots.  It was a painful affair to rise from bed.


	2. Mabari solve everything

“I can not truly call them night terrors, either.”

 

“You are sure it is not a demon’s work?”

 

I leaned back upon the bench, pulling a leg up against my chest.  Speaking with Sebastian was all I could do, and the archer’s reflective personality allowed for my own thoughts to be considered objectively without fear of judgment. It also helped that I considered him a friend.

 

I’ve been having these dreams for two months now; the Fade I enter is no longer tolerable when I wake every night feeling like the wolf in my dreams.

 

“No, that is definite.”

 

“It all sounds so symbolic.  You are most definitely the wolf.”

 

I scowled.

 

“And, I suppose, cats are… mages?  How long has the scarred cat been following the dog?”

 

“Two weeks.”

 

“Sounds like a stubborn cat.”

 

“Or a certain stubborn mage.”

 

We both smiled; Hawke.

 

“But, these  _beasts_.  Fenris… not all ca—mages are—” the archer stopped, then reflected for a spell. Then, he started again.

 

“All mages have the _potential_ to become abominations, but the ratio of blood mages to a regular practitioner is small despite the Country of Tevinter and the recent events in Kirkwall.  The possibility is there, but so is the off chance that you may die tonight.”  
  


I snorted—he was generalizing.

 

“A sweeping statement, yes, but you can’t cut mages from your life due to fear. Maker-damned they are, but they are still people. And remember,  _anyone_  can become mage born.”

 

This was the same mantra I’d tried to swallow since joining Hawke, but I’d failed to retain it in my heart.  Especially while here in Kirkwall.  Blood mage activity was everywhere, it seemed. Not the best place to start learning to trust mages.

 

The silence was comforting, then stifling.

 

“Fenris, trauma takes time to wear off.  It sometimes grows worse before it gets better, but the fact that you are now free means that your actions are _yours_  and you are responsible for them.  There is no master to tell you to heel when you’ve crossed the line, or give incentives or bribes to coerce you to make certain decisions.  You are in control now, so you must make a conscious effort to control yourself despite the traumatic turmoil you must feel whenever you even sense someone tapping into the Fade.”

 

I smiled bitterly.  How does an animal control itself when, in its purest form, freedom is to discard controllers of any kind, including self control?

 

Sebastian squeezed my shoulder. “You said the wolf has been wandering darkness for the past few weeks?”

 

I nodded weakly.

 

“Perhaps it is time for the poor hound to rest.”

 

He gave me a strange, knowing, penetrative look before standing and heading back into the Chantry.  I took my leave, only to spot Hawke near the Chantry board, checking postings.  He spotted me before I could slip past and greeted me too aggressively for me to properly deflect.

 

“Fenris…! Still sleeping horribly?”

 

I didn’t answer; it’s none of his concern.

 

“Take that as a no.”

 

“Take it as you will.”

 

“As I shall,” and he flashed a rouguish smile. I held in a sudden tingle that started at my toes and rose throughout my body until my cheeks and the tips of my ears burned, and there’s no use hiding it. I despise how my body acts around this fool.

 

He took me to Darktown, where the stale piss of the Hanged Man makes my worries less pronounced, if only for a while.

 

I was anxious to fall asleep that night. More so than usual.

 

It is true that the wolf was walking in darkness while being followed by the scarred cat.  What I’d withheld from telling Sebastian was the changes happening with the cat, and that the wolf was no longer a wolf, but a pathetic dog.

 

For the past few days, the kitten had begun growing and growing.  The dog stayed relatively the same, but its eyes had started to showcase this hauntingly familiar shade of green. It was as if the dog was reclaiming a soul.

 

Tonight, I saw the dog and the cat, but the cat was hardly a cat… it was as large as the dog was, and just as muscular.  Its fur had gotten shorter; its head had grown massive and wide.  Its paws were no longer dainty, but large and heavy. It walked shoulder to shoulder with the dog, and whenever the dog would get tired, the cat-beast would support it and kept them going, where ever they were going.

 

The dog didn’t seem to mind that his traveling companion was starting to look like the horrible beasts.  Perhaps it was losing its fear of them.  Perhaps that was the plan all along.

 

I woke with my cheeks hurting, and realized I must have been smiling all night.  It was a… pleasant pain.

——————————————

“Ah! Ah! Brasca, no!”

 

The Mabari gave Hawke a small considerate look before lowering its leg from over a expensive looking vase.

 

“Ugh, it’s as if I never trained you, or something.” Hawke plopped down in a chair near the fire.

 

I hid a small laugh behind the back of my hand. I’d been invited to celebrate Hawke’s name day today; everyone came to the manor save for Aveline, Sandal, and his father. They had prior engagement. We talked, laughed, drank, and then drank even more until only I and Hawke remained in the manor.

 

The Mabari sauntered over to me and bumped its large head at my over-hanging arm affectionately.  I flashed a small smile and pet him behind the ears.  “If only we all could live such carefree lives.”

 

Hawke chuckled and moved out of his chair to give his Mabari a few rough pats on his back and haunches. “Yes, he is a laid-back terror machine,” he began speaking in baby talk, “Yes he is! Who’s a vicious killer?”

 

Brasca barked and turned about, swiping his tongue over Hawke’s face.

 

“That’s right!  _You_  are!” Laughed the mage.

 

I watched them fondly, finding them to be nothing like a dog and master, but two friends.  A quick wrestling match ended with the large canine laying dominantly on top of Hawke, his jaws open in a most proud panting smile.

 

Hawke snorted in laughter and lay there, enjoying the aggressive love from his partner. Sheepishly, he looked my way, sending me a glance with those honey brown eyes that snatched my breath away.

 

That’s been happening a lot lately.  A strange phenomenon, indeed.

 

“You can stay, if you’d like, Fenris. There’s plenty of room in this mansion,” he sounded… hopeful.  Or perhaps I’m imaging it. It is not as if this was the first time Hawke’s offered his abode to me.

 

“If you wish it; it is your Name Day.”

 

“Heh, if I truly could have my way, I’d have you in my be—”

 

The Mabari flopped over his master’s face, causing the man to flail and the wrestling match to continue. What Hawke had been ready to confess to me was lost and I dared no imagine the possibilities. But, the fact that Hawke allowed himself to be vunerable enough to reveal secrets meant that this mage –this man—trusted me.  Why could I not reciprocate that courage?

 

Or… perhaps I was starting to. Once upon a time, I would have outright refused Hawke’s offer, but now I want not to turn down his generosities, no longer mistaking it for charity or pity. My chest burned pleasantly and I continued to watch the two friends at play.

 

The Fade was…

 

There were no cats or beasts.  There was no longer a dog, only darkness as far as the perspective could see. The perspective looked all about, confused, I suppose, until it rested upon a black furred Mabari with a scar on the top of its muzzle, very… familiar scar, and beautiful amber eyes.  The hound, was it… the cat?  The Mabari lifted a paw and ‘touched’.

 

Then the dog was revealed as being touched, as well as the being in which the perspective was coming from. But… the dog was no longer a dog, but a Mabari as well.  A mabari with… _my_  green eyes.

 

The scarred Mabari whined and approached a door, pawing at it.

 

The green eyed Mabari stood and approached the door.  It was apprehensive; what lay beyond the door? Was this what it was searching for? The scarred Mabari waited patiently, as if it could wait forever.  It was the Mabari’s choice to whether it to go in or not.  No beast was there to scare it through. There was no coaxing whine from a kitten, either. No chain tugging, forcing, or anything of the like.  This was its choice.

 

The green eyed Mabari approached the door, reared upon its hind legs, and put its bulk upon the door with a guttural snarl.

 

The door opened, and light pierced the darkness, bathing both Mabari in light.  They ran inside; what awaited them, neither of them probably knew, but they’d brave both light and darkness together. I could sense the trust between the two hounds, and when I awoke, I swore that I could still feel the afterglow of that bathing light. Or, perhaps, it was merely the sunlight in my face as I awoke in Hawke’s manor, between clean warm sheets and with the weight of a large Mabari head on my hip.

 

I scratched Brasca’s head, smiling lazily, who whimpered happily before letting loose a putrid smelling yawn in my face. He’s forgiven.

 

“I figured some sunlight would wake you.” There sat Hawke, in a chair a few feet away, reading a grimoire, completely relaxed, as if such a scene between us was the norm.

 

I neither flinched or shrank, or held my breath. I felt neither anxiety, irritation, or paranoia over a mage having been watching me sleep. I felt… languid. Fluid. Happy, Mabari-breath bath non withstanding.

———————————————-

It’d been three years.  My dreams had returned to normal up until that night.

 

I had confided in Sebastian my last dream three years ago.  I did so again, only because it was… so bizarre.

 

It was a dream of the Mabari pair again; green eyed and the scarred.  They were at a beach of some sort, playing and barking, digging, romping in the water, being hounds.

 

“It was… normal, I suppose, until the end.”

 

“How so?”

 

“The Mabari…” I sighed, my cheeks burning, and I struggled.  Sebastian gave me a scrutinizing look; which then melted to that of mirth.

 

“Well, what did the two hounds do that has you so flustered? _Mount_ each other?”

 

I scowled, but looked away, giving the archer the wrong impression.  When the archer’s brows started to rise from my silence, I barked, “No! Of course not! Nothing of the sort.”

 

He seemed to clam down after that, and gave a nervous chuckle. “Eheh… well then… what happened?”

 

I explained the best I could.

 

The green eyed Mabari trotted away towards tall grass and laid on its side.  The scarred Mabari approached, sniffed at the other’s exposed stomach, and then rested against him, half its body upon him. It licked the green eyed Mabari’s ears as the other rested, and then I woke up.

 

“Canines often expose themselves in a sign of submission or trust of the other.”

 

I scowled harder. “I am submissive to no one.”

 

“Calm down; did we not already establish you to be the green eyed Mabari and Hawke, the other?”

 

I gave a short nod.

 

“You are both still Mabari; Equals in the eyes of the other.  I don’t believe what happened was a sign of you being submissive in a slave sense but… in a romantic sense.  He _did_ groom you.”

 

I felt my cheeks burn.  “It is but a dream.”

 

“Dreams that have reflected your inner thoughts, problems, anxieties, and desires.  The scared Mabari groomed the other in the dream.  The green eyed Mabari trusted the other enough to be vulnerable.”

 

Sebastian gave me a knowing look. “Are you here to talk of dreams, or of reality?”

 

My mouth gaped, and I found myself without an answer.

 

“Fenris, what has happened as of late to cause this dream?”

 

I struggled with being truthful to myself until the silence became stifling. Thus, I spoke frankly.

 

I told Sebastian of a trek that Hawke and I went on down the Wounded Coast.  It was just the two of us since, according to Hawke, “between my brawn and his fingertips, nothing could go wrong”.

 

What Hawke failed to mention was the lack of a mission.  We did nothing but walk down the coast, fight the occasional obstruction and… talk.

 

I had been edgy and suspicious at first, but not enough to be guarded. Then what little anxiety I felt melted away into a sense of languid calm and ease I had experienced in that bedroom those years ago. I remembered letting go. Of what, it was hard to say, but I felt a weightlessness about myself.

 

I felt as if I wasn’t scarred, wasn’t an elf, hadn’t been a slave, but was simply a person with another person enjoying this moment of peace in our lives away from all negativity. I flushed as I recalled the night, and hoped that Sebastian’s sensibilities weren’t harmed.

 

We set camp. The fire was burning; the food was cooling off and our cots were laid out. I was out in the waters up to my waist, nude, cleaning myself despite the salty ocean.  Hawke claimed that he would go to a stream and wash. He had lied.

 

I felt hands caress my sides moments later, and stilled, frightened, then immediately calmed when I heard a “shhh, it’s me” right against my ear.

 

I… melted. I felt no fear or terror. I had only the sense of comfort, safety, and peace I’d never known before and I  _melted_ against that man.

 

Hawke touched me everywhere he could: my flanks, my chest, my shoulders, and arms; my hips… my thighs; all the way down my back to the arch of my arse. I could still feel the scratch of his beard against my beck where he’d nuzzled me.  I can still feel his warmth incasing me, his breath spilling across my jaw.

 

I could still remember my arms resting over his as he held me, and our hands intertwining.

 

Most of all, I remembered our lack of arousal, which made it all so much more sincere. Just us, melted together, cheek to cheek, in that silent embrace.

 

“You’re smiling harder than a dog can wag its tail.”

 

I gasped and, yes, I had been.  I looked to my lap, unusually flustered, but not embarrassed.  Sebastian stood, sporting his own smile.  “It feels good, doesn’t it? To trust?”

 

“Yes… it does.”

 

He pat my shoulder. “Good luck tomorrow at the Slaver’s den.”

 

“I would much appreciate it if you would come with me, Sebastian. Hadriana is a powerful blood mage.”

 

“Something tells me that you, Hawke, and Varric will be enough. Get some rest, and you don’t need my blessing for that.”

 

I stood confident, surprisingly, that, indeed, I would sleep soundly that night.

————————————-

That night, I dreamt not of beasts or dogs, but I dreamt of a door in the light.

 

Hawke was by my side, hand squeezing my own before letting go and stepping back. The door was there, and it was my choice to open it.  Hawke looked at me, trusting my judgment, and all was well.

 

I opened the door, darkness pouring into the light.  All was well, however; I trusted Hawke to look out for me as I would him.  As we passed through the door together, I slept deeper.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and re-posted to Ao3


End file.
